To Train a Mockingbird
by SetsunaNoroi
Summary: Bobbi is scared out of her mind. In the middle of DC with only her former recruit uniform she used as pjs and a single slipper on, she has a pistol trained on Captain America. S.H.I.E.L.D. says he can't be trusted. He says the same about them. Her trainer, Clint is unconscious at his feet and she has no idea who to trust. She just wants him safe. Set mostly during CA:Winter Soldier
1. Low Stress Job

Oh man, I can't stop. The Clint/Bobbi bug has bitten me and now I'm screwed. I just have to write more.

Unlike the previous fic I wrote, this isn't a one shot but an ongoing story. It's based off the idea of Bobbi Morse, aka Mockingbird getting her own show. She originally supposed to be a recruit to S.H.I.E.L.D. that was either still in training or had just graduated and was suddenly thrust into the world of spies with all the big hitters. Sadly, it never went anywhere, probably in case from the fact of the plot of Captain America 2. It was enough of a shift for characters experienced with S.H.I.E.L.D. suddenly learning their organization was compromised without getting into the idea of a young woman who just started. Well, actually the idea sounds awesome but Marvel probably wasn't willing to risk it. It had the potential to fail miserably, and instead she was put into the original show along with Hunter.

Still, I liked the idea of a younger spy, not as experienced suddenly having to deal with the fact she just joined a spy network that went belly-up within months of fully earning the right to be a part of it. Everyone can expect Black Widow and Captain America to be cool with their shit but it's another matter entirely for someone who isn't nearly as good yet.

Of course because I love the idea of Clint and Bobbi together, this will be focused on them, along with the fact he was not in the Captain America 2 movie like he was originally planned to be, warning Cap of the danger. Since in this story I have her younger than him and a recruit, their dynamic is seriously changed instead of the equals they usually are. In this story he's overlooking her training before all the shit goes down during Winter Soldier.

It is also heavily based on the first comic mini-series he had with Mockingbird. Basically it's just a mash-up of a ton of ideas I've enjoyed or never seen. With any luck it will come out half as good as some of these canon stories have.

Marvel is not mine. If it was I'd probably go the Dragon Age route and make it all just sex and violence without people breaking up all the damn time because apparently people at Marvel hate the idea of marriage and people making families. Well, not all of them but enough that healthy relationships are in the minority in that world. Uh... I guess the point here is I don't own it and please don't sue me.

Chapter 1: Low Stress Job

It had been far too long since Clint and Natasha had gotten together to just sit down and relax. Things had been busy, more so than was usual for the two of them. It had not helped that they hadn't been partnered for a little while, instead working several separate jobs where more than one specialized agent wasn't really required. The Avengers project had required Director Fury to send out his best agents in vastly different directions to see who would be best for the project. Often their jobs had led them on recruitment or guarding. Partners or not, they'd been led in different directions and had not caught each other often.

So when the whole fiasco of New York and Loki had been dealt with almost a month ago now, they'd decided a break was certainly the best thing for the both of them. It's not like there wasn't still work to do. In fact, the both of them were no doubt going to get very busy again very soon. There had been no hiding everything that had happened in the city and how it could affect the whole world, so now the game was figuring out how it would direct the shape of the world instead of trying to protect it from all these secrets. Thing had already picked up everywhere and the stories had gotten insane. As fantastic as it had all been, the stories were all even wilder. They were all getting very busy again, so it was wise to take a breather while they could.

They were sitting in a little coffee shop that had been a far ways away from the damage of the city. Clean up would take a long time, but they'd contained it as best as they could. A few damaged buildings, some streets torn up, but all in all things could have been a whole lot worse. Still, it was much nicer to be away from it, to be in a part of New York that didn't have debris and dust all over it. He'd been doing his best to avoid reminders of everything that happened back then, for obvious reasons.

"So, I'll be heading to D.C. soon," the redhead said conversationally as she spooned jam into her tea, Clint sipping at his bottle of water. He'd ordered a small sandwich as well, but it was untouched. He really didn't have much of an appetite lately, though Natasha had commented several times how gaunt he looked lately and really should be eating more.

"Oh?" he asked her. "Does the Director want more people on the team then?"

"Not exactly," she informed him. "He's worried about Rodgers. The man has a lot to catch up on, and things are pretty different than when he went in the ice. I think Fury wants someone to look after him."

"You don't strike me as the type to babysit, 'Tash," he noted. "Cap is a big boy. He can handle himself."

"Doubtless in a fight, yes. No, I think he's just going to have a bit of a culture shock, that's all. It might affect his performance, since he is going to be working with S.H.I.E.L.D. now. We don't exactly do things he would approve of after all. I guess I'm supposed to round out his moral code."

"We do things by the book though... mostly," Clint stated.

"Yeah, but I think that book has been rewritten a couple times now since he took his nap," she stated, a small smile on his face. "It'll be interesting though, having a stationed spot, not moving around from place to place. Something more than a temporary safe house to call home that won't get abandoned in a couple weeks."

"You're going to play at settling down then?" he asked with a smirk. "You of all people?"

"It'll be a change. Who knows, pretending to be normal might even be a bit of fun," she answered him.

"You don't have to pretend though," he said softly. "You're allowed to be more than this, you know. The Director doesn't expect you to-"

"I know. I know," she said before she shook her head. "It's not that I don't think about it, but let's face it Clint. It's not exactly what I'd be used to. People are comfortable with what they know, what they're raised doing. Haven't you ever thought about going back to the circus on occasion?"

He paused at that. He'd grown up under canvas roofs, the smell of greasepaint and cotton candy always lingering in the air. He'd been a part of that since childhood and he certainly hadn't walked away from it without some second thoughts, that was for sure. It was hardly his partner's upbringing, but he could understand where she was coming from.

"Good point," he admitted before he picked up his sandwich and bit down on it. The ingredients were fresh and tasty, but it still didn't go down easily. These days everything seemed like too much effort. Clint didn't want to admit it, but the effect of the scepter on him had not all gone away with just a large bump on the head like his partner had thought. He didn't have the compulsions anymore, the desire to follow a crazed god to whatever ends he had no matter what the cost, but it didn't mean he was entirely free either.

"You okay?" she asked him when he tossed the food down and sighed. "Clint, if you need to talk, you know I'm here for you."

"Sorry," he apologized. "It's just hard for things to be normal again, that's all."

"Was asking you out too much?"

"No. No, it's good someone is trying to remind me how to be human again," he assured her. "It's just... difficult at times, you know?"

"Not really. You haven't talked about it much. I mean, I have a feeling we have similar cases, but my mind wasn't taken over by an alien artifact. There's bound to be a few differences."

"Heh. Blunt as always, 'Tash. Thanks."

"Want to talk about it?" she invited. "I've heard you've been doing your best to avoid any suggestion on therapy. Why?"

"Because the second I allow that, they'll take me off the field, and I don't want that," he informed her. "I need to be distracted from all that crap, not sit on a couch and tell some stranger just how it was like for a god to pull my brain apart."

He sighed softly and looked down at the table, trying to think about how to put it to words. To her credit, she waited for him patiently. It was one of the things he loved about her so much. Natasha knew the horrors of the world, just how bad it could get for people like them. It hadn't made her bitter though, instead gave her great insight to other people and just what they needed to hear. She knew when to offer help and when to back away and give them space to figure things out for themselves.

"There are still dreams," he started softly. "Everything washed in a pale blue that makes it all disappear, and all that I can see is the target ahead of me. The next shot matters and nothing else is even there. I don't like to admit it, but I've never felt such focus like that before. Trick Shot had always told me the target and the shot are all that matter. Pay no attention to the crowds, to the screams and cheers or the distractions. With the scepter though, it wasn't just a lesson. It was real. All that mattered was the string pulled taunt in my fingers, the arrow notched and ready to fly. It's impossible just to see the target and nothing else in real life. Distractions can be ignored, can be blocked out but they're still there. Under the influence of the scepter though... it wasn't the case. Nothing was there, nothing but that moment the shot needed to be taken. I literally couldn't see anything else."

It had been terrifying just how right it had felt, and even thought the spell had lasted a short time on him, the effects lingered. He was still getting used to the idea that other things needed to be taken care of. He still needed to sleep. He still needed to eat. He knew those things on a conscious level but actually remembering them sometimes was a lot harder. If S.H.I.E.L.D. knew that about him, he'd be stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career, if even that.

"Being that focused on your work can be scary, Clint," she agreed. "I don't think anyone would judge you for it. It wasn't your choice."

"No, it wasn't. It's still something I have to deal with though. It could be worse. I heard Selvig has a tendency to strip down whenever he's working now."

Natasha didn't laugh, but there was a slight smirk to her face she couldn't quite banish from her expression. Apparently she'd heard the same rumors.

"He's become a lead in several fields now, some he never even approached before," she said. "I talked to him recently. He keeps saying that the scepter showed him truth. You think that's what happened to you? Did it show you truth?"

"That's... an interesting way to look at it," he said. "I'd like to think that's not the case though. People are way too complex to let themselves be taken over by just one aspect of their life. I mean, damn it Natasha. I'm more than this. I'm more than just the bow and arrow. I'm still me, yet I keep coming back to it. I keep coming back to those thoughts, the nightmares that I'm just meant to take down things around me and nothing else. It's... I just hate it."

"Sounds like you need a break," she sighed as she poured herself more jam into her tea, stirring the sugary concoction into a dark red liquid.

"No, that's the last thing I need. As much as being on the field feels a little too right at the moment, it would drive me crazy to go and do something else," he said dismissively.

"I'm not suggesting a vacation," she informed him. "You need something less stressful than what you're doing right now though. Look, Loki took you apart and tried to build you into something he needed, but it was something close to what you were already. You can't abandon it, but I think a step back would do you good. Find yourself again, get that balance you've lost. You need to see who Clint Barton is again before putting your life on the line. Take an easier job for a bit, then when you're okay, go back to being Hawkeye."

"You think it would be that easy?" he asked, snorting a little in disbelief.

"No. Nothing worth anything is ever easy," she answered honestly. "I think you're going to have to go through a lot of work before this is all okay again. You can't blame yourself, Clint. It doesn't mean it didn't still happen. I won't patronize you. I know you're angry about what happened and you need to work through that. If you try to do that while you're on some high profile job though, you're going to get yourself killed. If you still need the work to focus on then that's fine but don't do it in such a way that will get your buried six feet under."

"You're so sweet," he snickered. "I don't think Fury is going to let me start taking small clearance level one jobs or anything like that. He's scrambling just to get all of this taken care of. He needs people he can trust right now more than anything."

"True, but I think he'd make an exception for you," he stated. "Besides, there are other things you could do besides just take low profile jobs."

"Like what?" he asked in curiosity. His skill set was very specific after all. Not like he could start taking up hacking or anything like that.

"Well, graduation ceremony from one of the academies is coming close," she suggested. "Have you considered taking on a recruit for assessment?"

He was surprised by the suggestion. Assessments weren't usually something agents with a clearance seven took on, leaving it to the four or fives. Every time after a graduation, the recruits were split up and taken in by an agent that already had experience. It was a year of further training, now with real assignments and missions. It was the last test while partnered with a senior member of S.H.I.E.L.D. to see if this line of work was what they really wanted.

He'd done it only once before when he'd taken on a young woman named Katie Bishop, a true marksman that had wanted to do something more in the world than just live off of her daddy's credit cards for the rest of her life. She'd been a total brat and often had argued with him about how to handle jobs, but she'd been good enough he'd passed her at the end of the year. He couldn't help it. She'd been almost perfect with a bow and her snark almost matched his own. That had all been years ago, and from what he heard she was off in Madripoor right now using her father's resources in undercover work. Seemed she hadn't tried to escape as much as she'd claimed she'd wanted to.

"I'm not sure I'm in the right state of mind to be taking someone on at the moment," he admitted. "I couldn't be a very good teacher right now."

"I'd think about it if I were you. After all, it's not like you need anything too diffucult right now. Pick someone competent to handle the work and step in when you need to. It's called a hands off approach. It's not like it's an uncommon way to train either," she reasoned.

He had to admit she had a good point. He was used to working with Natasha or solo. He hadn't had a job with someone else in a long time. If he had someone he could watch over, it would give him something else to worry about other than himself. If he could actually pull it off or not was another matter entirely. Right now if he screwed up, he had his own life on the line and no one else. If he suddenly had someone else he could potentially screw up, it could be a lot more dangerous. It wasn't just low level missions. He'd be teaching someone how to function in S.H.I.E.L.D., what to expect in the industry, how to function in it even with all the difficult things that were expected of their agents.

Right now he wasn't sure he was the best example of the what could happen to someone while out on the field. It had been a nightmare lately.

"I guess I can think about it," he murmured softly. "It's not like it could hurt bringing it to Fury's attention."

"At the very least," she said, giving him a small smile. "Anyway, I think I'll be heading out. I'll need to pack a few things for when I go to watch over Rodgers."

"Need some help with that?" he offered but she only shook her head in response.

"No, I got it. It's not like I travel heavy anyway," she stated. "I can walk you back to your hotel suite though, if you want me to."

It was a kind offer but he didn't need it. If anything he could probably use some time alone. Natasha had given him a few things to think about. He gave her a little wave after she patted him on the back and went back to eating his sandwich. Graduation was still a few weeks away, and Fury mostly had recon jobs right now that didn't usually take long, so it's not like he'd be too busy to think it over when the time came to make a decision. If nothing else it was worth at least considering.

#-#

In the end Clint decided to go for it. Without Natasha around he'd have no real company and someone to interact with might help take his mind off of things. He wanted the dreams to stop, wanted to think about things besides just work without cutting himself off from it completely. Things besides the next target had to matter again or he was sure he was going to go insane.

A couple days before the graduation was supposed to take place, he ended up going to the academy to look over his options. He didn't bother going to the training grounds or classrooms. It would take too long to get a feel from them by looking them over face to face. Instead he went to see their files. It was more impersonal than what he was used to but he'd cut the timing rather close. They could all already be assigned by now for all he knew.

He stood at a door down near the basements, and knocked. The building was old and while it had been remodeled in some places, this wasn't one of them. Unlike the fancy sliding doors upstairs, this one was simple wood and glass with a name on it under black lettering. Record Dept. : John Smith.

"Come in," a voice called from inside and Clint walked inside the office. Smith was was an older man, had to be in his forties or more if the graying hair was any indication. He was a plain sort of guy, and as old fashioned as the part of the building he worked in. The type that always had ink on his fingers and would have preferred working on a typewriter than the fancy Stark Computer on his desk. Clint had met him a couple times but didn't know much about him, only where he worked, that he preferred to be boring compared to his hotshot or too stern companions, and he'd been born to do paperwork because it was the safest job S.H.I.E.L.D. had. There was also a gold ring on his finger, but as it had always been on his right hand Clint had felt it was best never to mention it. He smiled at the agent when he saw him come in and stood up, extending a hand to shake his. "Hawkeye. It's been a while. A few years in fact. How are you doing?"

"I've been better," he stated honestly. Smith had a face that was just impossible to lie to, like a friendly uncle that always brought you sweets when your parents weren't looking. "I've been thinking about taking on a graduate actually. I know they're almost all done with their training."

"That's not something you normally do," he noted. "Did someone specific catch your eye?"

"No. Nothing like that. I just need a step back from the normal work, that's all," he replied.

A look of perceptiveness came over the older man's face and he nodded as if in perfect understanding. Clint wasn't sure if he actually did or he was just being polite though there was no reason to actually get into it.

"Well, we do have some promising students this year," he said as he began to type on the computer. "Some decent sharp-shooters that-"

"Actually, I don't want anyone like that. No snipers, no gunslingers. I just... I don't want anyone who specialized to hit targets on a range," he stated quickly. He needed to stop thinking about such things. Training someone else on things like that wouldn't make it better. If anything, he wanted someone more like Natasha. "Have anyone who excels in hand-to-hand fighting? A little sneaky. Maybe with a background in ballet?"

Smith arched an eyebrow at him and he wondered if that last one was a little too on the nose.

"Widow is on mission elsewhere," he quickly excused. "I don't really-"

"It's fine. It's fine. Let me look," Smith said as he went back to his computer. "Well, no ballet. Sorry, Baryshnikov. However we do have a few promising students under other qualifications."

He stood up and went to the files behind him, several stacked up on top of each other as he rummaged through them. The students' files before they'd become agents, all of them relatively thin, before they'd be moved to another room to be logged and probably never touched again except when updated occasionally.

"Let's see here. Brandt... Doyle... Gamble... Morse," he murmured as he pulled the files out one by one. Clint looked them over slowly. Some on the list were actually impressive, an intelligence analyst with a surprising area of skills, a former US Army sergeant who'd been stationed in Britain for a few years, some young kid formerly a member of S.W.A.T. and... a former Georgia Tech college student?

"The hell is this?" he asked as he picked up the last file. It was the only one of the four that was a female, the picture of a young blond woman paper clipped to the inside of the folder.

"Is there a problem?" Smith asked in curiosity.

"This one. Morse. There's barely anything on her," he said as he flipped through her file. Top marks in martial arts and subterfuge but it was the only impressive thing about it. No former experience in any sort of military or government training, a former student of college that she hadn't even graduated from, and from the looks of it had come from a very small family in the lower middle class. She'd gotten into school on a gymnastic scholarship of all things. At first he wasn't sure why she'd even qualified to get into the academy until he saw the last page. "She was involved in recreating the Super Soldier Serum?"

"Her professor was. Wilma Calvin was recruited for the program to recreate the serum and Morse was one of her students she brought with her as an assistant. Their success was... well, always rocky. You've heard about the Abomination issue, right? Always a bad idea. Anyway, when the work was concluded, apparently Morse wanted to stay on so she enrolled. We thought at first she wanted to work in a lab so she was accepted but it turned out she was into the idea of field work."

"Why?"

Smith only shrugged before he went to the computer to look up further notes that hadn't yet been added to the file itself.

"No family connected to the military. No previous contact with S.H.I.E.L.D. I can only assume she wanted some adventure in her life. It's not like she's the first to do it for those reasons. She's pretty much a clean slate from what I can see. A few minor instances of discipline. Apparently she's a bit sarcastic. Got her the nickname Mockingbird. Knowing the higher ups, that'll probably be her codename too. They never put any thought into these things anymore. We're running out of intimidating sounding names."

"Smith," Clint said, to cut off the rambling.

"Ah, right. Well, that's pretty much everything on her. Not much, I know."

He looked down at the file again. Full Name: Barbra Morse Age: 23 Identified Weapon: Batons. There was a lot more information after that, her IQ and her ratings with firearms and just what she'd been studying while in school but Clint had already made his decision.

"Has anyone taken her already?" he asked.

"Not that I can see," the older man answered. "Far as I can tell she's all yours. I suppose I should have figured she'd be the one you picked though."

"What do you mean?" Clint asked in confusion.

"Well with the Romanoff, not to mention Bishop, and now Morse," he stated. "You've picked up a pattern from what I can see."

Clint felt himself go a little hot under the collar. Oh great. The last thing he needed was rumors popping up again about how he got involved with his partners.

"It's not like that," he said firmly. "She just looks like the type that would want to learn what I have to teach her."

"Of course," Smith said. His expression remained completely neutral but if he were the type to smirk, Clint was sure he'd have a shit eating grin on his face that even Stark would be jealous of.

"I'm going to borrow this if it's alright," he said as he tucked the file back under his arm. "I'd like to look it over a bit more."

"Of course. Shall I let her know she's been assigned to you?"

"No. I'll come pick her up myself after graduation. Just do me a favor and clear it with the command, okay?"

"Of course."

He left the office, already looking the file over again as he left the academy. It felt like a bit of a snap decision to have picked this woman, but he usually went with his gut and it was rare for it to be wrong. It was telling him this was the right one to go with so he was going to go with it.

He spent the next day doing his best to relax. A range or two to shoot at in the morning, lunch and dinner via take-pizza, and sitting at home with T.V. playing in the background while he went over her file again and again. He didn't learn anything new by it, though he called the college she'd been at to get more info about her. He didn't learn anything he didn't know already, just that she'd dropped out despite her almost perfect marks in biology and she'd been aiming for a PhD.  
She'd certainly wanted something when she'd joined S.H.I.E.L.D. but he didn't know what it was. Just what was it that she'd wanted to get by suddenly dropping her life and running to a spy network that spanned the globe?

"It is going to be interesting to meet you, Birdy," he mused as he traced his finger over her picture while chewing on a slice of pizza while some cop show played in the background, the noise barely audible. For once since the whole Loki incident, the food didn't feel weird when it went down.

End of Chapter 1

First chapter so far. Not much too it yet but I hope what was there was enjoyable. Points to everyone who gets the joke on the other recruits who he passed over for Bobbi. I couldn't help it. I just love in jokes when it comes to the Marvel fandom.

Next chapter we'll meet Bobbi as she gets introduced. Until then, reviews are always welcomed and adored. Thanks.


	2. Bump into You

Second chapter. Yay. Since that much hasn't happened I don't have much to say, only that I found it oddly challenging to write Bobbi this time. I'm so used to her being so abrasive and on the same level as Clint. The beginning of their marriage is so passionate in both good and bad ways. They fight and make out almost constantly, or they're cuddling nonstop. Oh yeah, and they fight crime. After the Skrull event she's much more quiet and subdued, though she can still get into it with Clint like no one's business. Then after the divorce she's just totally calm and has a great friendship with him. I was lucky enough to find some comics with her before she met Hawkeye to get a grip on her character and tried to write her accordingly, spunky and confident, though being much younger than him is obviously going to influence their interactions. I just hope it isn't out of character for her by fan's expectations.

Chapter 2: Bump into You

Bobbi Morse was developing a bit of a headache. More than anything she wished she had some pain killers to take and a nice dark corner to take a nap in. She'd been up since before dawn, unable to sleep. How could she? This should have been a happy occasion, finally graduating from the academy. She'd worked for this for years, done everything she could in order to get this honor, but she couldn't feel lower than she did right now.

She'd spent most of the day before on the phone with her mother, both arguing and at the same time begging her to come to the graduation ceremony. She didn't know why the hell she'd expected the woman to show up considering she'd yelled plenty of time she refused to be there, along with asking over and over why Bobbi felt the need to do this to her.

"You're going to get yourself killed. You really expect me to be okay with that?" she'd been asked before the line had gone dead.

Still, Bobbi had scanned the room over during the event, hoping desperately her stubborn mother or brother would have bothered to show up after all. She'd begged for it and even sent them money for a flight here. It had been dumb to hope though. The seats assigned for her family had been empty the whole time, even as she was handed her certificate and told just how proud she should be to be serving her country. She'd stood up straight and tall, thanked the man, but felt hollow inside despite it all.

She'd wanted this a long time, and damn it she was proud.

There had just been this vain hope her mom would be proud too.

The ceremony had pretty much become a party at this point, people in groups talking casually in a joyful manner while drinking and snacking, a note of congratulations in the air for everyone involved. Not everyone had family that would be coming, but there was enough that she felt a little lonely in a crowd. If she still had her dad, she was sure he would have come at least. He'd have an arm around her and tell everyone how proud she was of her and thoroughly embarrass her in front of everyone by treating her like a child and she'd loathe every moment of it while her face burned in embarrassment.

Right now she'd kill for that.

Needing a distraction, her eyes scanned over the crowd. Amongst the general talk and merriment, people enjoying the punch and finger foods, there were other people there. They stood a little bit out of the crowd, mostly observing. As far as she could tell they were the assessors they were going to be assigned to in order to bring them fully into S.H.I.E.L.D. They'd all been told about it of course, but Bobbi didn't have any idea just how the decision was made who went with who. She wondered if they'd all already been matched up or if the agents here were just watching to see who they liked best.

There were rumors going around on who had shown up. Some of these men and women were living legends in their own time, fantastic stories about them where half the details were classified and thus wild rumors spread in their place. Names were being swapped, eager whispers could be heard, and those not preoccupied with family or friends to attend to do their best to seem serious and reserved whenever any of the seasoned veterans looked their way. Bobbi wanted to be part of the first group and thus did not have the energy to be part of the second.

There was one name that was being dropped several times too, a one Clint Barton. Gossip had spread to its highest concerning him. He had quite a few feathers in his cap after all, being the longest with S.H.I.E.L.D. of the group, the most successful missions on his record, unorthodox methods on his way of handling jobs like the famous recruitment of the Black Widow, and of course the event everyone and their grandmother was talking about, the New York incident. Details on that were sketchy at best.

There had sort of been news coverage on it, barely any film or pictures taken in all the panic, but what had been documented had been terrifying. An invasion larger than life, the confirmation of things most people didn't want to believe in like aliens, magic and gods was suddenly rocking the world, and those involved had been seen and accounted for in very explicate reports. Iron Man and Captain America had been the most mentioned, right after them the Hulk and Thor, but those at S.H.I.E.D. had been much more interested in the names of Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff and Phil Coulson. Information had spread like wildfire and no one knew for sure exactly what was accurate. Things were being contained and hidden, that much was obvious, and it was much easier to do so on figures that had not been primarily talked about on the news.

To have Hawkeye here, and the rumor being that he was going to recruit someone, had caused a very loud buzz. A few people had claimed to see him in the back of crowds, slipping around but Bobbi herself hadn't caught a single glimpse. On another night her curiosity might have eaten her alive but as it was, she was much more concerned with those that hadn't shown up than some mystery sharp shooter who had.

One way or the other, she didn't feel like being on display right now, no matter who picked her up for her training. She'd rather go out and get some fresh air. It would probably be premature to leave the party too soon but there was nothing to say she had to stand around and watch the merriment. It would just make her grumpy.

So she'd grabbed a cup of punch and made her way outside. There was a balcony that overlooked the campus, a nice little perch to get some time alone. She closed the glass door behind her to enjoy the solitude, only to see there was someone else already there.

"Oh, sorry," she said when she saw him, though he didn't turn to face her. "I didn't know there was someone else out here already."

She didn't recognize him but then again she couldn't see his face. His build and gait didn't strike a match with her though, which meant he wasn't one of the instructors she'd gotten to know over her education. He definitely wasn't a student either. Even casually leaned over the balcony, there was a tenseness about him like someone ready to spring into action any second. She could only guess he was one of the agents here to take on a new graduate for further training. He had to be here for the graduation after all, dressed in a brown suit that really was the only thing about him that wasn't impressive. In fact, it looked downright shabby compared to all the black suits around. It didn't fit him at all.

"Don't worry about it. Just needed some air," he told her as he looked out over the campus.

"Yeah. That's in short supply around here, what with all the egos out tonight," she laughed. "Ten tons of guys from CIA and the military, all so proud to be a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. now. "

"You're not?" he asked her.

"Oh, of course I am, but I'm just a little Georgia Tech college girl who got recruited to work in a lab. When I signed up to do field work, no one expected I'd make it, and with top marks to boot," she informed him as she rested against the railing and smiled at him. "I'm Bobbi Morse. I take it you're one of the guys here to pick out which of us little grunts you like best and take us into the real world of spy work?"

"You could say that. Nice to meet you, Miss Morse."

When he turned around to face her, she stopped short. From the back she'd had no idea who he was but when she saw his face it immediately clicked in her mind. A little media coverage had not meant none at all and she suddenly found herself standing face to face with none other than Clint Barton himself. She was more than a little shocked and her voice caught in her throat, making it a bit difficult to return the sentiment he'd just given her.

He reached out and shook her hand, which was a bit of a surprise, though it was a nice one. He seemed kind of serious actually but not in a stern way. She'd just sort of assumed that happened to agents after a while. Not many people here had a sense of humor but he didn't look like the type that would snarl at her just for speaking to him. She had no idea what she should have been expecting but this certainly wasn't it.

"I take it you've heard of me?" he asked her sardonically and she wordlessly nodded.

"I don't think there's an agent or recruit who hasn't these days," she admitted, lucky enough to find her voice again. Last thing she wanted was to make herself sound like an ass to him or anything. "Especially considering... you know..."

She waved her hands vaguely.

"Things."

To her surprise he snorted in laughter and shook his head. She didn't see what was so amusing.

"Interesting way to phrase it," he mused. "New York attacked, the whole earth to follow. Loki spreading havoc around everywhere he possibly could... and things. Yeah, I think things pretty much sums it up."

"Are you making fun of me or are you just generally an ass?" she asked him with a hand on her hip. Her headache was starting to return, however briefly forgotten by the encounter and now it was back with a vengeance, or maybe he was just annoying her.

"No. I just generally find it refreshing to hear it phrased in such a way. It's a very casual sort of way to look at it. Honestly, I'm really surprised. Pleasantly so though. You just proved my hunch right. This next year is going to be very interesting."

"This... next year?" she asked him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

It was amazing just how easily he could give a cute little smirk, going from irritating to oddly charming in just a few seconds. Bobbi probably shouldn't have been swayed by it, but she had to admit that it was a nice sort of look to him. Maybe she was a little too tired from the long day or perhaps he was just a handsome guy who knew how to put it to his advantage but she certainly took notice. It would have been really hard not to.

"I'm your trainer and assessor for the next year," he informed her, still holding that same disarming smile. "I'd meant to approach you after the party, though it seems you found me first."

"Wait. Wait, hold up a second," Bobbi said immediately as she help up her hands in disbelief. "I must have misheard you. Did you just say you're going to be the one overseeing my first year as a field agent?"

"Indeed."

She felt honestly a little dumbfounded before she took a moment to collect herself. Part of her thought this had to be some kind of prank but to be honest she didn't really see the punchline anywhere. More than that, just why the hell would some high profile marksman take the time out of his schedule just to mess with her?

There was serious doubt in her mind that anyone could have put him up to this unless for a really good reason and she just didn't see it.

"You're training me," she said to clarify once again and he nodded. Seemed the answer wasn't changing and no one was jumping out to yell, 'Psyche!' in her face so it had to be true. "Well, huh. How about that? You want to tell me why you're training me, Hawkeye? I would have figured you would want someone with a background in sniper rifles or something like that."

"You want the frank truth?" he asked her as she hopped up to sit on the railing, her black and white checkered dress hanging about her knees.

"Well, it's hardly the standard with spies," she replied with a soft smile, "but sure. I'd love to hear the truth. Shoot it at me."

The lame pun was intentional, and she was pleased when he rewarded her with a soft little chuckle. It seemed she'd been right about his sense of humor and not being very stuffy like other people around here.

"You intrigued me," he explained to her. "I was here a couple days ago to pick someone out in order to train. Your file had a lot about you and at the exact same time nothing at all. It made me wonder just who you were and why you were here. I wanted to find out."

"You could have just invited me to drinks and asked," she informed him before kicking her feet out a bit as she thought it over. "Well, let's see. Where should I start? I mean, the life story doesn't really have that much to it."

"Well, you can start by telling me how you dropped out of college and decided to work on the field instead of in a lab," he suggested with a wave of his hand.

"That wasn't in the file?"

"Bare bone basics, and I'd rather have a personal account from the inside."

"Fair enough," she said. "I guess it really started with Dr. Wilma Calvin. Back in Georgia Tech, she was my favorite professor. I looked up to her as a role model and I wanted to be a scientist because of her. She's a brilliant woman, and when she was recruited to try to recreate the serum that was responsible for creating Captain America, I jumped on board to follow and help her. Project Gladiator was a dream come true for her, for the both of us. It was work that could make a difference, that could really help people. We both went into it eagerly... and maybe even a little naively.

"We weren't the only people on the project. There were a few others, including a man named Paul Allen. Because S.H.I.E.L.D. was mostly funding the project, I got to know a lot of agents. I didn't try to sneak around, but I started to hear things. Strange rumors, odd meetings taking place late at night that no one was supposed to know about. I'll admit, I never was the kind of woman who could keep my nose out of things even when they didn't concern me so I began snooping. I couldn't really help it. This was supposed to be one of the most important projects my mentor had ever worked on. I couldn't risk the thought that something bad was happening right underneath her nose. So I decided on my own to look into it.

"It led me to Allen. From the beginning something had just seemed odd about him. He almost always hung around after everyone else was finished working for the day and he seemed really eager to get in close to Dr. Calvin to discuss work yet would ignore the rest of us. If things weren't so fishy from the beginning I might have just thought he was a hard worker, but it seemed whenever he was around things went wrong. Minor stuff. Setbacks, budget cuts, important vials would go missing even if only for a few minutes. I started to follow him around, trying to see if he was innocent and it was a coincidence or if something larger was at stake.

"Eventually I found out the truth, that he was working for A.I.M. as this lousy sort of double agent. He was supposed to get the secrets of the project to them while keeping us from the goal of completing it. It meant he had to figure it out faster than the rest of us, then plant false leads to throw us off. To this day I don't think he was cut out for that kind of work. He'd been slipping up bad, his transgressions starting to get more noticeable even to those that weren't paying as much attention to him as I'd been. I heard him on the phone, panicking and saying he wanted out. At first I felt flattered and I thought he was talking about me, but it turned out S.H.I.E.L.D. had known almost from the get-go what he was up to. I should have figured, since after all you guys are paid to pick up the kind of stuff I'd only stumbled upon by accident.

"I didn't figure it was you guys that were freaking him out so bad though. I thought he believed I'd rat him out, tell the authorities or something. So I did probably the dumbest thing I've ever done in my whole life. I went in the room to calm him down. I thought if I convinced him to stop what he was doing and confess, whatever damage had been done could be repaired. He went totally nuts on me though, attacked me and screamed that I was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and I had to be dealt with. I think he was just scared then, but then again so was I."

"You fought him then?" Clint asked to which she snorted.

"I doubt what we did could be called fighting by any sense of the word. When I think about how green I was back then, I realize again and again just how lucky I was not to get beaten up or killed. We scrapped more like it, but back then it felt like a fight to the death. I still remember him on top of me, trying to pin me down and I hit him over and over anywhere I could. All I knew was I had to cause him as much pain as possible to get him off of me. Yet when I succeeded, he ran... and I chased after him. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I was mad or I wanted to make sure he didn't get away. I just know I got up off the floor and went after him as fast as I could manage.

"I chased him all the way to the swamp and tackled him to the ground. This time, I was the one on the attack, not that it was any more graceful that time. I just started to wrestle with him in the mud and got him to stop running. Eventually I knocked him out and started to search his body. I needed proof of what he'd done, of what he was trying to pull off. He had flight tickets in his jacket along with a couple vials, though they'd been smashed in the fighting. The most useful thing he had were copies of the notes, all of them, on his person in a marked envelope. He'd planned to mail what he had to A.I.M. and hope that was enough for them not to come after him for not finishing his end of the bargain.

"And that's how S.H.I.E.L.D. found us. Covered in mud, sweat and bruises with one of us passed out and the other clutching proof of what he'd done. I was pulled up and out of there, interrogated for two full hours as I tried to realize just what had happened. Honestly speaking too, I felt great. I'd stopped a bad guy from committing a crime, had helped my mentor keep her work safe, and after they'd finished grilling me, it was like I'd done S.H.I.E.L.D. a big favor even though they could have handled it without me. I felt like I was on Cloud 9 and the adrenaline rush was addicting. I'd felt like one of those amazing super heroes on the Saturday morning cartoons I'd watched as a kid and I wanted more of it. A lot more. The second they seemed to understand I had helped S.H.I.E.L.D. apprehend Allen I told them I wanted in. I wanted to be a member. I wanted to keep going, help however I could by working with them permanently. I was enrolled in less than a month, determined to prove myself and help out however I could."

"You wanted to be a hero doing the right thing?" he asked her. "Really? No thrill seeking?"

"Well, thrill seeking was a big part of it too," she admitted. "I'd wanted to kick ass like I thought I had with Allen. I'd forgotten pretty quickly I'd been fighting like a rock-em-sock-em robot half the time by flailing wildly instead of using any form or technique. In my head, I'd been awesome. It didn't take long at the academy for me to see I had a lot to learn."

"Yet you came out top in your class. Impressive, especially considering there were plenty of men and women here who had much more experience than you," Clint pointed out.

"I was determined to prove myself at that point," she informed him. "I couldn't have handled the shame if I went into a career no one expected me to pull off and failed miserably at. I wanted to show everyone I wasn't some nerdy little scientist who couldn't handle herself. I put in extra hours, did my best to take care of myself and stay in shape. I spent every evening and weekend at the library studying techniques on all my classes and did whatever it took to be the best. Cramming before tests, reading while working out, anything I could do to inch along to meet those ahead of me and then pass them. Honestly speaking though, it was an honor. I learned so much about myself these last couple years, about what I was really capable of. It made me into someone better."

"There's certainly something to be said for getting to be as good as you are on determination and practice alone," he agreed. He had worked on that almost every day of his life since he'd been a child. He could certainly respect someone else who realized that and lived by such an idea.

"Thanks," she replied with a big grin. "It means a lot to hear someone like you say that. I mean, it's still still kind of amazing to meet you in person. Even before New York, there were a ton of crazy rumors about you. Is it true you brought down the Black Widow single handed?"

"That's kind of a complicated story, honestly," he answered her. "Too long for right now. I brought her in is the short version of it. I wasn't the only one after her though, just the one who was lucky enough to catch up to her."

"Was she difficult to take down?" she asked him and he chuckled a bit.

"I've had easier jobs," Clint said, "but it was the most rewarding so far."

Bobbi really wanted to hear more but it seemed that was the best she was going to get out of him. Not too fair when she considered that she'd told him everything about herself, but then again it sounded sort of personal. There was a wistful little smile on his lips, and Bobbi wondered idly what it meant. There had been talk a few times about how the man had been romantic with the Black Widow if he wasn't still involved with her. From the goofy grin on his face, she had to figure that was a yes.

It made her wonder what he was doing here, picking up a former recruit instead of working with his actual partner. She didn't bother to ask though. Something told her she'd get about the same level of answer. That is to say, none at all.

"So, how do we get started?" she asked. "I was told I'd be assigned a trainer but not much else after that. What's the itinerary?"

"You'll be training with me for the next year, obviously," he stated. "I'll teach you all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s friends and enemies, how to handle an actual mission, when to lay low and how to handle the stress of the job. The academy is nothing. You'll have some culture shock. I can guarantee that. All our jobs will be posted nationally here in the United States, though we'll be no doubt be moving from city to city temporarily as the work dictates but living in one main city. S.H.I.E.L.D. will want you to take your work seriously but not get overwhelmed."

"What city will that be?"

"Unknown," he replied with a shrug. "My address is constantly changing. We'll no doubt just be assigned any city. Why? Do you have somewhere you wish to be? You grew up in Rome, Georgia, right?"

"No," she said quickly with a shake of her head. "No. I don't have any preference, except maybe far away from that place."

"Home trouble?" he guessed.

"My mom doesn't approve of my choices lately," she admitted. "She thinks I'm going off like some cowboy and that I'll end up dead in a ditch somewhere. She was always the sensible type. The kind who believed a work career should be for stability, not passion or some silly dreams. My dad... he passed when I was a teenager, and he was just a manager at a knock off Greek restaurant. We didn't have much growing up except each other and... well, she's afraid she's going to lose me too. She'd probably have me working as a scientist in a boring lab making a fraction what I do than in a position I could get my head blown off."

"That is a possibility though," he warned her. "It might come to that someday, where you get killed or captured. Is that something you're willing to risk."

"Yes," she answered honestly. "As long as I can help at least one person before I go out, then it was an even trade to me. Anything else I pull off is just extra."

"Try to have higher standards that that, Bobbi," he said to her. "I don't plan on losing you as a trainee that easily."

She only mockingly saluted him with a grin.

"Anything you say, Hawkeye. I'm as good as yours."

End of Chapter 2

And done. I'd thought about getting into Clint's back story but I think Bobbi's is enough for the chapter. He'll get into details at some later point in the story. Don't worry, they'll bond and get closer pretty quickly.

For those of you who are curious, there is not going to be any past relationship with Natasha in this fic. I enjoy Clintasha but the fact of the matter is I ship her and Bucky a whole lot harder and it seems in the MCU they're really trying to establish Clint and 'Tash are just friends. In the end it was just easier to go the route of them being platonic buddies and that was all. Still, there will be plenty of mentions of his best friend and all the feels.

Please review. I need feedback. Any kind is good.


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